


Winged Eyeliner and Gunsmoke

by pancakesforbreakfast



Category: The Strange Case of Starship Iris (Podcast)
Genre: Arkady can take care of herself but things happen first, Arkady is good at hurting people but doesn't like to, Gen, How Arkady and Sana met after the war, Sexual Harassment, Space Mom Sana Tripathi, Violence, where the iconic look came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakesforbreakfast/pseuds/pancakesforbreakfast
Summary: How Sana hired Arkady as her first mate and then helped her find her signature badass look
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Winged Eyeliner and Gunsmoke

**Author's Note:**

> I had some FEELINGS about Arkady after reading the short story about Arkady and Violet post-Episode 10 on tscosi's Patreon. Mostly about Arkady cultivating an intimidating look to prevent having to actually use violence, because she'd definitely be a pacifist if she could be. (Also had feels about Arkady being gray-ace (yay representation!), but they didn't show up here)
> 
> The first section does require a trigger warning: sexual harassment and mild sexual assault (sorry "mild" doesn't seem the right word, but it doesn't get any farther than a kiss). If you're not good with reading that, feel free to skip to the section after the break; you won't miss much. Also, for the record, feel free to punch any jerks who won't leave you alone BEFORE they kiss you. 
> 
> Also, please excuse if some of the details don't match canon. I ran out of time to check on things like how long Arkady was in the military (problems of not having internet unless I go into town).

This sleazy guy had been staring at Arkady all night from a few booths down. She could feel his eyes on her even when her back was turned as she faced the wall of booze behind the bar, and he took his time turning back to his group of friends whenever she caught him in the act, clearly unabashed despite her glares. Apparently, he had even ordered her a drink, sending her a wink and a smirk the next time she scanned the room. She shot a grimace back at him. It was mostly vodka, clearly meant to fuck her up enough to get her to go home with him, and the mixer tasted like some cheap, synthetic version of an unidentifiable fruit. Even so, Arkady wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth when she was low on funds. Turns out there’s not much market for someone whose only skills are opera, self-taught hacking, and shooting things. Surprise surprise. She survived on freelance security breaches, but jobs were far between at the moment.

  
She was contemplating whether to splurge for another drink or call it a night and head back to her mouse hole of an apartment when the guy finally plucked up the guts to actually approach her. His collar was slouched to one side, and his breath smelled of more than a couple beers. “Whaddait take to make ya smile, pretty girl?” he slurred.

  
“You leaving me alone,” Arkady said. She made her voice loud and neutral over the din of the bar, but kept her eyes focused on the empty glass in front of her.

  
“Now you don’t mean that.” He leaned an arm on the counter, bringing his face in closer to hers. “Imma real fun gent, ya know.”

  
Arkady glanced down the counter for the bartender. They were nowhere in sight. She would have to handle this herself. She finally turned to face the guy, sitting up so he’d have to go back to standing as well. She looked him up and down quickly. “I’m sure you are, but I’m not interested,” she said, forcing a touch of apology into her voice. He had a knife on his belt, left side so he’d have to reach across for it, but no guns. He wasn’t particularly tall, but neither was Arkady, so he still had a good five or six inches on her. But she definitely had him on muscle mass. He looked like a guy who ran more than he punched. He wasn’t a miner, for sure. On this moon, that meant he was probably either a scuzzy “lawyer” or a runner for one of the drug lords. Either way, Arkady was pretty sure he was used to his fights being settled with a gun. (She was surprised he didn’t have one on him tonight.)

  
“But you don’t even know me, sweets. Dontcha think we should get to know each other better b’fore ya go sayin such things, huh?” He reached for her arm, which she moved away. Denied that, the guy let his hand continue down to rest on her knee. 

  
“I said,” Arkady paused to pinch his sleeve to lift his arm off of her and drop it back at his side. “I’m not interested.” 

  
He leaned in further this time, sending his arm back to rest on the back of her stool, trapping her between him and the bar. “C’mon. Just one kiss and I think I’ll change your mind. If ya don’t like it, I’ll leave you alone.”

  
“I don’t need a trial run to know I’m not interested. Now leave before I break your arm.”

  
“Little thing like you couldn’ do that,” he said. Arkady raised an eyebrow. He stepped in closer, moved his hand from the stool to her shoulder, and placed his lips on hers, rather sloppily to be honest. 

  
Arkady let him. She knew her next moves wouldn’t have appeared justified to the rest of the bar if he hadn’t actually kissed her. When he pulled back enough for her to speak, she said, “I can, and I will.

”  
She stood up, fully into his space, and slammed her left hand into the side of his neck. As he buckled slightly, she grabbed his knife off his belt with her right hand and backed out of his loosened hold. Recovering, he flung out his hand to grab her again. “Bitch!” he yelled. Arkady caught his arm with her own then pounded her forearm into the sensitive spot just above his elbow. Her second strike produced a satisfying crack. He let out a high-pitched yelp and stumbled back into bar stool. For good measure, Arkady stomped hard on his foot and finally sent a knee crashing into his chest when he doubled over.

  
Part of her wanted to scream, to yell at him about making assumptions and touching people without their consent, but she forced herself to stay quiet. He wasn’t likely to listen anyways. Instead, she turned away, walked a few stools down, pulled out her wallet, and placed a five-unit bill on the counter to cover her tab. The patrons who had heard the commotion shrugged or shook their heads and turned back to their drinks.

  
She was almost to the door when she heard a voice call out, “Hey, Patel!”

  
The voice struck a chord inside Arkady, and when she turned to face the caller, she suddenly knew why. “Are you still going by that name?” the woman asked. She was a bit older than when Arkady had last seen her, but the brightly colored hijab and the laughing brown eyes were definitely the same. Amara had been Arkady’s hero on Cresswin. The woman who came in and pulled them all together, held them together through the roughest times. Amara was probably only a few years older than Arkady, but to her fourteen-year-old self, Amara was everything she wanted to be when she grew up.

  
Amara was sitting in a dark booth in the corner of the bar, and Arkady made her way over. “It’s actually Indira now,” she said, stopping at the end of the table.

  
“Indira then. That was some nice work over there.” Amara lifted her chin towards the bar. “You sure know how to take care of yourself.”

  
“Five years in the military and a lifetime on Cresswin will do that to a girl,” Arkady replied.

  
“What are you doing now? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  
“Well, they didn’t have the money for benefits for lowly fighter pilots and I didn’t much enjoy dockside duty, so I do odd jobs here and there.”

  
“I’ve got an odd job, and I think you might be just the person for it. Would you like a drink? I promise not to kiss you.” Amara smiled widely.

  
“I think I might believe you on that,” Arkady said and slid into the seat across from Amara.

* * *

  
Smuggling drugs and illegal video games wasn’t exactly what Arkady figured Amara (now Sana, she had to keep reminding herself) would be doing after the war. But she supposed that when you’re a known dissenter with a record of dishonorable discharge, it might be a bit hard to find honest work. Especially with Sana’s unbendable morals. Lying, stealing, even roughing up the occasional person when necessary, she was fine with, but she wouldn’t do it for the IGR or any of the rich bastards profiting from it. A rebel through and through.

  
Arkady may have had a bit different set of morals these days but she wouldn’t turn down the chance to ditch her shabby apartment, get paid, _and_ give a finger to the IGR. With no killing, Sana had promised her. Arkady didn’t actually believe that – she was a realist and this was the black market – but she did believe that Sana wanted to believe they could make it without killing, and that was enough for her. Much better than the IGR’s “Shoot first, file the paperwork later” policy when she worked at the docks. 

  
Sana was based out of New Jupiter. She had just picked up her next load of cargo on Ganymede when they met. So Arkady packed up her few belongings, bought three new pistols with her remaining cash and Sana’s promise to cover her until they get paid, and climbed onto the small runner ship Sana was renting (“Just until I get a few more parts for my ship” she had said). The quarters were tight with two people, but neither of them cared after Cresswin and their stints in the military. Arkady was thankful Sana piloted them, though; she tried to stay out of the cockpit as much as possible. If Sana noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  
They were about half an hour from their first drop to a drug queen called Boudica when Arkady entered the cockpit to go over the plan one more time with Sana. “So how much do you think we’ll get from this?” she asked as the door closed.

  
Sana turned to face her new first mate, opening her mouth to answer but then freezing in place.

  
“Indira, why do you have so many guns on you?”

  
She looked down at the three guns on her belt, two in thigh holsters, and the knives slung across her chest. “Intimidation. The more dangerous I look, the less likely they are to screw with us.”

  
“But can you even move with all that extra bulk?”

  
Arkady just gave a look that said, “Really?”

  
“I mean, of course you can _move_. But say you end up in hand-to-hand, wouldn’t those inhibit you?”

  
“Probably a bit,” Arkady conceded.

  
“Plus you look like you’re _trying_ to look dangerous. We just want to give the impression that we _are_.”

  
Arkady was clearly unconvinced, so Sana paused for a second and then tried again. “You were in the theatre troupe on Cresswin, right?”

  
Arkady wasn’t sure if Sana actually knew that or if it was just a lucky guess. With the limited choices for entertainment, most people were either part of the troupe or part of their audience. It wouldn’t have been hard to spin it to fit her answer either way.

  
“So you know it’s all about performance. We could walk in there with the kitchen cutlery as our only weapons, and as long as we acted confident, they wouldn’t mess with us. Intimidation isn’t about looking like you’re spoiling for a fight; it’s about looking like you couldn’t care whether or not there was one, because you’d win it without breaking a sweat. It’d really just be a minor inconvenience to your day. Does that make sense?”

  
Arkady nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  
“Okay then. I’m going to send Boudica a message, tell her we’re having trouble with the landing gear and we’ll be a little late, and then I’ll help you figure out something that feels just as intimidating but with fewer guns,” Sana said.

  
When they got back to their shared room, Arkady started unstrapping weapons while Sana began sifting through drawers. The captain threw a pair of black jeans at Arkady, tighter than the cargo-type pants she was currently wearing. Then she pulled out a faux-leather jacket from her own closet, sized up the shorter woman, shrugged, and tossed that at her too. “Keep the boots. You can still hide a small knife in them as well,” Tripathi said. 

  
Arkady changed, and Sana helped her adjust the jacket so that two handguns on her waist were visible, but a third, and the straps attaching it to her lower back, was hidden but easily accessible. The captain stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Better,” she said. “We’ll get you your own jacket when we can, but this will work for now.” 

  
Arkady, curious, wandered over to the bathroom’s small mirror and did her best to evaluate her new look. Sana was right; it did look more like she was not interested in fighting but would still beat your ass if you tried. She rubbed a little more gel into her hair to control a few wayward strands, and then an idea struck her. Arkady would not consider herself particularly into make-up, but a good, clean eyeliner wing always made her feel more confident. In fact, she’d had some on the night she met Sana.

  
When she exited the bathroom, eyeliner kohl black and razor-sharp around her eyes, Sana’s smile went wide and tinged with its own promise of danger. “Perfect,” the captain said. “Let’s go.”

  
The drop went off without a hitch. Arkady didn’t even have to threaten anyone with her guns. And the next time they stopped at a market port, Sana bought Arkady a new jacket and another tube of eyeliner. 


End file.
